Poetry Breakfast

Serving a little poetic nourishment every morning. Start your day with our new expanded menu. Poems, of course, are our specialty. But we will also be serving a fuller menu that includes poetry book reviews to feed poets' and poetry lovers' souls.


creative writing

I’d like to think (October 14, 1995) – A Poem by Marietta Calvanico

I’d like to think (October 14, 1995)
by Marietta Calvanico

Your scent is
in my hair
(or maybe in my mind)
clouding that grey territory
of things said/unsaid

maybe it doesn’t matter
if the moment was left silent
maybe it’s all the same
whether through words or touch
or some other-worldly sense

we are locked in this present
it’s like a train pulling away
as we run down the stairs
getting there just in time
to see its lights
disappear into the tunnel


About the Poet: Marietta Calvanico lives in Staten Island, NY. After spending a bit more than two decades in advertising/marketing, she now works with her architect husband and has been able to devote more time to writing, art and music. Her poetry, short fiction and non-fiction have appeared in print and in on-line publications including The Bare Root Review, OccuPoetry, Dying Dahlia, River Poets, The Driftwood Review, damselfly press, Straight Forward Poetry, Bond Street Review and others.

The Nepalese Man – A Poem by Shalom Galve Aranas

The Nepalese Man
by Shalom Galve Aranas

And you said Nepal
your home, is beautiful,
And I replied: the nature
in you.
This love is slow,
limpid and warm.
I take my time
for you
to come home
to the temples
inside me.


About the Poet:  Shalom Galve Aranas has been published in The Blue NIb, Former People, Written Tales and elsewhere. She is a loving, single mother of two.

Here Comes the Sun; A Bluegrass Experience – A Poem by Susan E. Gunter

Here Comes the Sun; A Bluegrass Experience
by Susan E. Gunter

A chaste sun burns off desire,
its fire warming us while coins
of light fall on the green grass.

Blue notes beat the air—
stringed kithara or mandolins—
counterpointing the sun’s beams.

Arrows of light and sound,
negative shapes, beauty of the singular—
we are turning into memory.

Only once—we come here only once,
but the sun takes the day from me
before I can write it down.


About the Poet:  Susan E. Gunter has published poems in journals here (Atlanta Review, Louisville Review, Poet Lore, Semaphore, and dozens of others) and also in England and the Balkans. She has published three books on Henry James and the James Family and she volunteers at the Marin Poetry Center.

Paleo Blues – A Poem by Randall Brett

Paleo Blues
by Randall Brett

She said I had
Paleo blue eyes –
light, the color of water
from before Fire –

Then dawn over Manhattan
greeting us
like the oldest sunrise
in history,

Where my ribs, ancient,
are stuffed in the mud
of Olduvai Gorge,
aching for excavation,

Ten Million
with ten million
more to go –

One by one
I pull my bones from the bed,
evolve them together yet again
and go walk the dog.

About the Poet:

Randall Brett lives and works in NYC with his wife and apartment-sized dog.  (The wife is, of course, regular-sized).  You can follow his blog at

The Anxiety of Influence – A Poem by Howie Good

The Anxiety of Influence
by Howie Good

A banner stretching across the building’s exterior said, What’s Shakin’. You entered through a glass door, walked down a long, dim hallway and up a set of stairs into an area with large windows. The view was constantly changing, and you weren’t always sure what you were looking at or how it was happening. Jack Kerouac berated you for your perceived lack of cool. William Burroughs wouldn’t remove his hat. If you were going to stop in somewhere, this wasn’t the best place. Many years would pass before anyone would realize that among the 20 most common passwords is “trustno1.”


About the Poet:

Howie Good is the author of The Titanic Sails at Dawn (Alien Buddha Press, 2019) and co-edits the journals UnLost and Unbroken.

The meaning of life – A Poem by Mikels Skele

The meaning of life
by Mikels Skele

It’s the bigness of clouds that gets me,
Great, relentless, unraveling bolls
Searching the smear of life beneath.

“We call this the Hydrogen Dance;
The clouds are coaxing Carbon from below.
When they find it, they will weep with joy.”

I sit, mouth agape, and wonder when they’ll find me.

Inspired by the assertation that “the purpose of life is to hydrogenate carbon dioxide.”

About the Poet:

Mikels Skele, having retired from archaeology, spends his time writing poetry, essays and short stories.  He maintains two blogs, Exiles Child ( for poetry, and Omniop ( for prose. His poetry was regularly featured in VerseWrights.

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